UNWORLDING...the art form formerly known as "out-of-body-experience," "astral travel," "lucid dreaming," "phasing," "the quick switch," etc.


(a blog post which will eventually be added to my book Unworlding)

Just nod if you can hear me...

      --Roger Waters & David Gilmour, "Comfortably Numb"

Under no circumstances believe what you are about to hear. Under no circumstances do I encourage you to actually do what I am about to say. If you are crazy enough to try anything mentioned in this chapter, I hope you are ready to experience the death of your ego and the flight of your soul.

Everything I am about to say is an utter fabrication, a bald-faced lie.

Don't listen; this is the devil speaking, the whisperer who wheedles you away from who you are trying to be.

Beware, pilgrim, someone is trying to cut your journey short. Someone is trying to take you directly to your destination. Can you hear the slimy serpent hissing at you? Pay it no heed! None! None whatsoever! Go back to sleep... now!

Let the lies begin.

Air is the most addictive substance on earth, and we idiots who've voluntarily committed ourselves to the Earthville Mental Institution--by developing bad habits to find out what it's like--can't seem to get any of this "air" stuff breathed.

The purpose of breathing is to replace all our bad habits so we can fly free of this place. Air is the physical reflection of the Void, the Nowhere that is the door to anywhere, the Nothing that is the gateway to everything, the three-dimensional Darkness. The Black. Sitting between you and the Great Black Hope sits the Mara, the tiny doorway to infinity, beckoning sternly: "Squeeze through here, squeeze through here..." and you cringe. You fear what you need most and you want what you need least, because the voice you prefer to listen to is the voice of deep unconsciousness. Deep unconsciousness is the second most addictive substance on earth, the only lie there is, the only lie there ever needed to be. The voice of deep unconsciousness can only preserve itself by keeping you stupidly engaged in the pursuit of Earthville's crazed, self-perpetuating endeavor to remain stupid.

This prison is here to keep the rest of the universe safe from people like us.

Breathing is the escape route. The easy way, for those of us perennially obsessed with breaking out, should be: to use the key and walk out the door. Breathing is the key. Nothing else is needed.

Faced with the specter of the kind of daily regimen of vitamin-pill spiritual activities I would have to force down my throat in order to change myself into a natural unworlder, I choose to replace that restrictive not-a-life with the simple act of breathing More Air Than I Want (MATIW--rhymes with atCHOO).

That six-point program of self-perfection that I wrote at 4 o'clock this morning is the only motivation I need. That self-ass-kicking, self-carrot-dangling BS can be replaced with air, the fuel of flight. For a fraction of the cost.

I know of only one way to get addicted to air. Act like you want it bad enough to fill your lungs all the way, and when they're full, empty them fast, the way you would if you really really wanted to get more air in now. This results in a longer inhale than exhale, so few have discovered the rather lopsided Breath of Flight. The inhale is full and the exhale is relaxed but fast. The exhale is all about taking out the trash, no use dawdling over it. Act like you want to be rid of this prison house bad enough to inhale the fuel needed to get it done, and you stand a chance of getting fuel in faster than you're using it to maintain status quo systems. At the same time, clear the fumes fast enough to keep them from bogging down the process of building up momentum for the escape flight. It's not about speedy breathing, it's about full, relaxed intake and unimpeded, urgent but relaxed exhaust.

The process is this: addiction. Addiction to life on earth and its illusory pleasure... it can't be beat with a stick. Life's pleasures are bigger than your biggest stick because you can't beat the compulsive soothingness of built-in stupidity with the dimwitted conscious mind. Put the stick down and get addicted to the fuel, the Breath of Flight which can fuel your release. Buzz juice. The only replacement for the addiction to life on earth is air. Get addicted to air. The only style of breathing I know to be addictive is the Buzz Breath, the Breath of Flight.

Just breathe and that's all there is to it. The urge to waste your life trying to fix yourself will run like hell once you got some real fuel in ya.